


Ironic

by sekaiana



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Choking, Degradation, Despair Disease (Dangan Ronpa), Despair Nagito Komaeda, Force Choking, Light Angst, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, NSFW, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Semi-Public Sex, just take it, no editing because i dont fear god or death, owo?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 08:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17505494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekaiana/pseuds/sekaiana
Summary: After Chiaki’s death, Nagito joins Izuru on the roof for a lovely little talk._______(no actual nsfw or violence i just hinted at it all dont worry but i dont wanna make people uncomfy)





	Ironic

**Author's Note:**

> listen up i know little to nothing about how they act all i know is that my gf LOVES them and there isnt enough kamukoma fic for her so i Gotta Make Content bc i love her. all my komaeda knowledge is based off the hinata-kun remix and the memes and the scene where he goes ngh...ngh.......! and all my izuru is just “hm. boring” ok just take your light smut

“For the ultimate hope, I didn’t expect you to be this dreary.”

  
“Hm. I guess your luck is inactive today, Komaeda.”

  
Nagito let out a low chuckle, walking over to the ledge where the other was sitting, handing him a metallic water bottle full of cold water. Izuru accepted it with hesitation, not expecting to be offered such a mere gift, but nonetheless thankful he could rehydrate himself.

  
It was the night Chiaki had died. Executed in front of their whole class, Nagito Komaeda had fallen into a deep spiral of despair. So much for being a “stepping stone for hope”, am I right?

  
The other, Izuru Kamukura, had had the chance to chat with Chiaki during her final moments, and only by picking up her signature hair clip, the rush of memories of their friendship flooded his mind at a speed too extreme for the man to handle. He had openly cried, not realizing why, however. It was quite.. difficult for Izuru to comprehend. Crying was a sign of weakness these pitiful humans used whenever a result didn’t go their preferred way, was it not? Hadn’t he _wanted_ Chiaki to die? He was built a being of many talents and dreams, but raised a killing machine by the ever-so-lovable Enoshima sisters (one more than the other).

  
So do tell me why Izuru Kamukura, the Ultimate Hope, a being of endless talents and opportunities, was sat on the ledge of Hope’s Peak Academy with Nagito Komaeda, the Ultimate Lucky Student, who was supposedly a “stepping stone for hope” when all he does is talk about such a minor topic with a dangerous passion?

  
Neither had an answer.

  
“..How are you liking your new life at the school?” Nagito asked, resting his forearm on a propped up leg, his other leg dangling nonchalant over the ledge. He side-eyed Izuru as he took a long sip from the bottle, a smile that had not left his face since their friend’s execution still plastered unwaveringly on his pale face.

  
“Quite boring,” the other replied, no trace of humour in his voice. Nagito laughed, and took the bottle from him to take a drink.

  
Pressing the cool edge to his bottom lip, he asked “No surprise in your answer. Is there nothing in life entertaining enough to you to even warrant a smile?” before taking a long swig.

  
“Not that I've yet to find. I’ll let you know if I find something. I don’t doubt you’d be ecstatic to have the “Ultimate Hope!” fond over something for you to get high on.”

  
“”Get high?” Ahaha, Kamukura, don’t be absurd. Why would I get high on hope if there much much better alternatives?” the boy laughed, setting the bottle down. Izuru merely raised an eyebrow at the implications, though he truly did not give a fuck over what Nagito’s tendencies were whenever he was happy. It didn’t concern or interest him. He was quite bold to joke around Izuru, though. He’d shot him quicker, and assumed Nagito knew he shouldn’t be messed with.

  
“Why are you here?” he asked, the blunt question not phasing Nagito.

  
“To hang out and bond with my beloved Kamukura!” he sang, laying his head on Izuru’s shoulder and throwing his arms out. “Maybe you’re the hope I’ve been searching for?”

  
Pulling his shoulder away to let the pale man drop, he let out a disgusted scoff. “Do not touch me. You’re foul, do you know that? If you’re going to lust over something so openly, do it with Mioda. She would more than likely join in.”

  
Nagito howled a laugh, still on his back. He draped an arm over the edge, staring up at the unimpressed—and rather hateful-looking—noir male.

  
“Don’t imply Mioda to be so provocative. She’s eccentric, but her talent as a musician would not allow her to be so vile.”

  
“Does Hanamura get a by on that, then?” retorted Izuru, getting quite fed up with the other’s childish behaviour. Was he a dog in heat? By God, he was so much better when passed out from the bullet wound.

Nagito gasped, a hand flying up to fake an offended expression. “You wound me. What has Hanamura ever done to you? It wasn’t he who drugged everyone. That was Saionji. Her talent.. barely makes up for her actions,” rolling over, he pushed himself back up to a sitting position, holding down one leg crossed under the other while the other swung over the edge in circles.

  
“Why are you here? Leave me alone. You’re boring me,” Izuru stated, flat voice mirroring his blank eyes. Nagito sighed, and looked out over the roof.

“In all honesty, I have nowhere else to be. Everyone in stewing in their personal despair, while I have accepted mine since the beginning.” sighed Nagito, running a hand through his hair, eyes giving the slightest glint of despair-induced hunger. “They’re all battling for the hope Chiaki had taken with her to the grave, while me? I have been accepting of this since the beginning. Hope is the ideal outcome of the world, and if I have to suffer to achieve it, so be it.”

  
Izuru gave him an odd glance. _What was this guy’s deal?_ he thought, narrowing ruby eyes in distaste as Nagito’s other hand embedded itself into off-white locks.

  
“My hope revolves around other’s success. All my life has been full of highs and severe lows. I didn’t have to deal with much a majority of my life. My “talent”—if you could even consider it one—had been handed to me on a silver platter since birth. While the others have been developed through time and hard work. They suffered and pushed for where they are today,” he rambled, breathing getting raspier and heavier, fingers tightening around his hair. Izuru wondered if he would rip it out.

 

“I had been cursed with a lifestyle I cannot control. I can’t simply drop my luck like Mioda would her guitar, or abandon my givings like Kuzuryu his gang or Souda a failed project. It follows me through thick and thin, dragging me back one minute then shoving me forward another. It _controls_ me and all my actions. I can’t do a single thing. I’ve succumbed fully to its mercy.”

  
Nagito slammed his hands down on Izuru’s thigh, staring up at him with intensely focused eyes, flushed cheeks, and hot breathing. How unflattering. Sweat dripped down the albino’s cheek as he stared at the literal embodiment of everything he idolized. Everything that kept him _sane_.

  
“Now you, you can control anything you please. Every situation, every outcome, every result. You own your life and possibly other lives as well! Nothing can stop you that you don’t want to. Nanami was a hope-filled person and a wonderful inspiration, but _you_ …” he trailed off. Nagito’s voice got quicker, jumbling words into a high-pitched hailstorm of false hope as he crawled over to Izuru, his hands sliding up the man’s body to rest on his shoulders. “You’re everything the world can aspire to be! Hope as pure and as unfiltered as yours is divine, battling despair. _I_ am _your_ stepping stone. I am your slave of will and wishes. You can control me, Izuru Kamukura. All my life will become yours, and there’s nothing I can do it—!”

_Slap!_

Nagito rolled away from Izuru with a harsh jerk, gasping heavily as he curled in on himself a few feet away. He twitched helplessly, trying to regain some sort of control over himself as he rubbed his burning cheek, the handprint Izuru left leaving a scar that would long impact his mind.

  
Izuru brushed his hand off on his pants, face contorted into a sick look of pure distaste. “What an unflattering, vile little animal you are..” he snarled, sliding down the ledge to distance himself from the boy infected with despair. Nagito, on the other hand, was utterly _livid_. His body wracked with wheezy laughs and harsh coughs, each holler giving sharp pains to his lungs and chest as he curled in on himself. It was hysterical! Even everything he dreamed of hated what a lowly piece of trash he was! He had truly no reason to live if his whole life had rejected him, hm?

  
Nagito cackled all the while Izuru spat insults at him, the degradation fueling him into his pool of self hatred once again today. He pushed himself to his elbows, eyes wide with a look no sane person should or _could_ ever possess, as he crawled over to Izuru, flinging himself into his lap.

  
“Kill me.”

  
“What?”

  
“Kill me. Choke me. Spear me in the abdomen,” he chuckled, grabbing Izuru’s wrists before the noir-haired man could shove him off.

  
“Beat me senseless. Tie me to a tree and let me rot. Just _end my life and let me free from this hell_. Please.” His demands turned to begs, sitting in Izuru’s lap as he got a rejecting stare of disgust.

  
“In lack of better terms, wouldn’t it be appropriate to classify you as a whore right about now? Suicide slut, if I may use a word Mioda or Kuzuryu would probably come up with.”

  
Nagito giggled, too sickly-sweet for what he was talking about. “I’m just expressing my love for hope!” he purred. “Doesn’t that make it me expressing my love for you by default, aswell? Shouldn’t you be positively _flattered_ , Kamukura? The only other one who could love you for you and not for your uses is Chiaki. Enoshima.. she only wants to use you, so she doesn’t count.”

  
“Don’t you want to use me as well?” he snapped back. “You have only gushed about my multiple talents, and never once about my personality—or lack, thereof.”

  
Nagito scoffed, wrapping thin, shaky arms around Izuru’s neck.  
“Fine. You have beautiful eyes. Now fuck me.”

  
Izuru narrowed his eyes, an arm snaking down to wrap around Nagito’s waist while the other embedded in his hair, long fingers coiling the matted mop.

“I would ask you to beg, but that is a corny and quite boring way to ask for something. You’ll have to do a lot better than that to impress me.”

  
“Needy, aren’t you? Am I just here to feed your ego?” joked Nagito, and wincing whenever he felt his hair be sharply and roughly pulled back.

  
“I thought you were here for a quick stress reliever, am I incorrect?” the blunt question didn’t phase Nagito, who was currently fighting back a prickle of tears threatening to well up at the corner of his eyes.

  
“Maybe, maybe not. I guess we’ll have to find out where the night takes us, hm?”

  
Izuru shifted Nagito off his lap, shoving him roughly onto the concrete roof. He rolled the water bottle out of the way, clamping an iron grip around the bottom’s throat.

  
“I am not here to entertain you. Should it not be the other way around?” he hissed, the closest to excitement Nagito presumed he would get tonight. “You claimed to be my slave to all my wishes. Would you being a selfish brat not include on that list?”

  
Nagito gasped and sputtered, a tranced smile forcing it’s hold on his face the best it could. “Ha.. haah… I didn’t expect… it to be this easy to provoke you..” he let out a harsh gasp for air whenever he felt the grip loosen, before returning as suddenly as it left. “..Would.. you.. be so kind.. as to maybe.. _juu_ -.. _ust_ maybe.. being so graci- _hck_ \- letting me fulfill you-rr _rrr_.. wishes and desires..?”

  
Izuru stared coldly at the man, slim tears soaking his sweaty face as he gasped out for air, drool rolling from thin lips down to his uncovered neck and jawline. _Disgusting. Replicating a pig would be the best description_ , Izuru mused, a dangerous glint in his eye as he considered his options. Shut the boy up once and for all, or let him keep babbling and fall deeper into his despair. He pondered, and quickly made his decision as he felt Nagito wrap long legs around his waist the best he could. He removed his hand from his throat, relishing in the pained coughs and inhales Nagito was making, and made quick work of removing Nagito’s belt with ease, grabbing frail wrists and binding them together with the leather, tying the long excess of makeshift rope to a nearby hook by the ledge.

  
“I won’t let you do anything,” he growled, pulling himself so he sat snugly between Nagito’s legs, hips holding up his thighs. Nagito smiled, giving the ‘cuffs’ a testy pull, and looked at the other lazily through lidded eyes and fluttering lashes.

  
“Aw, what an honour. Truly making me into a slave of hope, are you?” he let out a dreamy sigh, wanting to tease the other as long as he could while he still had the privilege of keeping his voice intact.

  
“You’ll see,” huffed Izuru, running what he wanted to do in his head. As he settled on a beginner, he held the hem of the black jeans in his hands.

  
“Are you ready to have all your beloved ‘hope’ enter and entrance you once and for all?” he asked, making quick work of removing the annoying garment.

  
“Hmm~ I think I’m well prepared. I _have_ been waiting years, but this certainly won’t be the way I pictured,” was the snowy-haired man’s reply, and he let his hips drop as the jeans were discarded. Hopefully the rooftop door was locked, and hopefully nobody had access to a telescope or security cameras. “I certainly didn’t picture hope to be this alluring.”

  
“Oh, shut up, Nagito,” Izuru snarled.

  
Nagito smiled, ignoring how his heart was already pounding out of his chest in nervous anticipation, casting aside how the consequences of his decision would play out.

  
“ _Make me_.”

**Author's Note:**

> idk i hope u enjoyed. i wrote this in an hour or two so dont be mad that it Sucks


End file.
